


Starting a Typical Weekend

by trillian_jdc



Series: Established Portfolio [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Little Italian Food Porn, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Soft Smut Sunday, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24580489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade have a certain routine every Friday evening, even when work gets tricky: spoiling each other with food and sex.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Established Portfolio [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865395
Comments: 11
Kudos: 77
Collections: Soft Smut Sunday





	Starting a Typical Weekend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowed_sunsets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowed_sunsets/gifts), [Mrs_Crowley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Crowley/gifts).



Mycroft sighed. It never failed. When he knew Gregory was anticipating the start of their weekend time together, work kept him later than expected. 

It wasn't surprising. Most Fridays didn't bring emergencies -- the American habit of hiding bad news with a late afternoon release meant that the truly outrageous actions were announced late Friday night UK time, so responses could be handled later. It was more often the regular grinds of bureaucracy and the tendency of workers to plan their time badly. 

Plenty of people in the office wasted the morning and rushed through the afternoon, cleaning their email inboxes before they left by pushing everything they could off to someone else. As the final voice on most policies, those missives wound up crossing his desk. None of them were urgent or essential, but it was hard to ignore that little voice that kept saying "fifteen more minutes and it will all be taken care of." The desire to come in to a clean desk on Monday was an old pleasure, one of the few he had before he and Gregory got together. It was a hard habit to break. 

He'd just looked up at the clock and realized he was supposed to have left half an hour ago. First, apologies, then action. He texted his partner. 

I am sorry, Gregory. Work got away from me. I am leaving the office now.

As he began gathering his things together to depart, his mobile sounded with a series of texts. 

**Gregory:** I feel special.   
  
**Gregory:** I'm the only one who knows you well enough to find you predictable.   
  
**Gregory:** Bring Italian on your way home? You know my favorites.  
  


Mycroft smiled. Leave it to Gregory to take everything in stride. 

You should feel special. Would you decant the red wine?

Already home, Greg laughed when he got the response. Of course Mycroft wouldn't find opening a bottle of wine sufficient to start the weekend. No, he wanted it poured into one of his inherited antique cut-glass crystal decanters. The one time Greg had asked, there was something about aerating the wine, allowing it to breathe for a greater depth of flavor. 

Greg didn't think they were going to let the wine sit that long, but if it made Mycroft happy, it was easy enough. (Although he did hope that whoever described them as leaded crystal wasn't entirely accurate. He didn't want to lose any brain cells; it was hard enough keeping up with a Holmes as it was.) 

Soon enough, Mycroft was coming through the door with a delicious-smelling bag of their favorites from one of the best Italian restaurants in London: appetizers of burrata, fried artichokes, prosciutto wrapped cantaloupe, and steamed mussels, to be followed by lobster linguini and porcini pappardelle with lamb ragu. It was a good thing they liked to get out for a run on Saturday mornings. And nibble on leftovers for lunch. 

Jackets off, shirtsleeves rolled, they ate and shared and drank wine and caught each other up on the events of their day, sneaking kisses and touches in between feeding each other bites. The creamy, oozing cheese contrasted brilliantly with the crisp vegetable leaves. Smooth melon and salty meat. Garlic-flavored seafood paired with crusty bread. Rich and hearty pasta flavors. After they sated their hunger and had sipped a couple of glasses each, it then became a race to see if they'd get the leftovers put away before they gave up on the food and chased each other up the stairs for a different kind of appetite. 

Once tidied up -- the food really was worth saving -- and in their bedroom, their urgency slowed down and deepened. They had nowhere they had to go, since Mycroft had been clear, once their relationship became serious, that his weekend was to be interrupted only in the case of war, treason, or imminent death. They could instead appreciate time with their love for each other, holding each other and indulging in long kisses. 

Greg began unbuttoning Mycroft's waistcoat, but Mycroft quickly took control, pushing Greg back on the bed and going directly for his flies. While several people knew of Mycroft's sweet tooth, Greg was the only one aware of his most favorite way to top off a meal: sucking Greg's cock. 

As Mycroft's mouth descended on him, Greg stretched under Mycroft's hands, arching his back and reaching for the headboard. He writhed in the sheets, the week's tension flowing out of him with every motion. His trousers were halfway down his thighs and his shirttails disarrayed as Mycroft crouched over him, too eager to finish undressing either of them. 

He loved the feel of Mycroft's tongue licking him, base to crown alternating with random patterns, causing tiny shudders. Then Mycroft circled his lips around his tip, increasing the suction and making him shake more visibly. He was comfortable, cared for, being looked after. His boyfriend normally looked so polished that the contrast of him focused on an entirely physical activity, determined to do nothing but bring Greg pleasure, increased his enjoyment almost to the breaking point, aided by the feel of warm wetness around his prick. 

Mycroft's hands stroked the sides of Greg's hips, with his thumbs making small circles around his hipbones. His head bobbed and he hummed as Greg's excitement built, washing him away on a tide of emotion as his body reached its peak. He shuddered and came, muttering "God, Mycroft, love, oh, God." Mycroft smiled, swallowed, and reached for a tissue as Greg lay back, sated. 

He began removing his shirt and trousers while Greg drifted for a moment. Mycroft loved this chance to observe his partner, relaxed and open. Sometimes he couldn't believe they'd found each other, two people who relished this kind of predictable habit as a welcome haven from the challenges of the rest of their lives. They could be themselves together, and they quite enjoyed each other. Together, both could set aside any decisions and just make each other feel.

After coming back to himself, Greg sat up and beamed at his partner. "I love weekends. Your turn, darlin'." 

Mycroft had put on a pair of pajama trousers. "Let me get ready for bed, Greg. You know what I like." 

"Of course, whatever you want. You finish up in the bathroom while I change." 

When both were cozy, with teeth cleaned and sleepwear donned, they spooned, laying on their sides together, bare chest to bare back. After a Friday night feast, Mycroft never wanted anything too athletic. He preferred to be surrounded by Greg's arms, having his cock lazily stroked while Greg kissed and mouthed at his neck, gently demonstrating his affection, ramping him up gradually, and spoiling him with feathery touches. 

Greg reached down, running his fingertips up and down Mycroft's cock. He slowly teased for long minutes, alternating light brushes with circling grips, just for a moment, and long strokes, until Mycroft was almost squirming to get away. Greg's other hand pressed firmly to Mycroft's chest, holding him in place over his heart, reassuring him. 

The inability to predict Greg's next motion meant no need to think, only to experience, while the gentle stimulation made Mycroft feel cared for and cherished, as if he was a fragile piece of china. Eventually, the need within him slowly building, Mycroft's breaths began stuttering. At that point, a few hard pulls brought forth an orgasm all the more pleasurable for it being so comfortable and familiar. 

After minimal cleanup, the two reassembled themselves in each other's arms and drifted off to sleep together. Their routine was a typical start to the weekend, but it was always rewarding. 


End file.
